


Said and Done

by auliyaaa267



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Romance, i kinda tried to give Crowley my syptoms of anxiety, i would say friends to lovers but i think they go beyond human relationship labels, the f/m and f/f are because i want to let them have fun with corporations, this one has it all folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auliyaaa267/pseuds/auliyaaa267
Summary: Hello! I don't know how long this is going to be, or how good it will be, but here is the first chapter of Crowley Has Trauma!Enjoy!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 3





	Said and Done

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I don't know how long this is going to be, or how good it will be, but here is the first chapter of Crowley Has Trauma!
> 
> Enjoy!

Everything felt too concrete, too real. The traffic was too fast but too slow, all of the sounds were so faint but so blaringly  _ loud _ , and that  _ honking _ and  _ yelling _ and the bloody  _ sirens _ and the  _ bloody traffic _ and it was all so much, and yet he felt so…

Empty.

Crowley felt empty.

An overwhelmed kind of emptiness that seemed to fill him up til he was bursting at the seams with so much void that it threatened to choke him where he sat driving. He coaxed the Bently though a little bit of space and time, pulling over to the side of some country road. The Bently was immensely capable of driving itself around, but that would have defeated the purpose of Crowley’s entire outing. Driving often brought him peace and clarity, things he had been lacking as of late.

Crowley had never been one to feel claustrophobic, being a denizen of Hell had made quick work of any leftover feelings of lofty, open spaces that he might have still clung to with everything said and done. The whole point of leaving was to avoid confinement, and yet-

“No,” Crowley said aloud to no one. He would stop this, he had to. Everything  _ was _ said and done. The end of times that was more of an intermission than anything else -- it was over. Life was back to normal, as normal as it could be for a demon who had gone native. Ademon who had gone native and an angel that he wanted to get closer and closer to, going so far as to become a near permanent fixture in the bookshop. 

But no, he had taken the drive to get some space.

As much as he loved the bookshop, every time closed his eyes he would catch a whiff of smoke that would leave him gasping. The sounds of a bustling city would flood his ears, leaking in through the doors and windows and walls until he was drawing in it all, the panic beginning to seep through his entire being. He was drowning, the worry spilling into his lungs and making his corporation begin to feel unbearably frigid, petrified into a mess of whirring thoughts. It was awfully hard to keep his composure when all he wanted to do was hold onto Aziraphale for dear life. 

His fingers twitched at the thought.

Perhaps he should go back, or perhaps he should at least call. Aziraphale had thrown him a bit of a concerned look as he stomped through the door, muttering some excuse about having business to take care of and a stiff  _ angel, I’ll be back _ .

Crowley took a deep breath, gazing at an apple tree in the field across from him.

The empty feeling filled him even more, and Crowley knew he had to leave. He had to leave or his corporation would do that thing with its eyes. He had to, but the painful, tight feeling wrapped itself around the inside of his throat and his eyes burned. Crowley sobbed into the silence of the Bently. Tears had yet to fall, but his eyes stung. His brain felt full of cotton, and that choking feeling struck him again.

After his corporation was finished doing that thing it often did nowadays, he decided that perhaps he should like to explore the countryside he found himself in. Crowley started towards the tree, but it felt wrong. He shook it off as lingering tension from earlier, and made his way through the patch of trees across from the dreaded apple tree. Crowley still didn’t understand why the tree bothered him so much. Everything was said and done, everything had been dealt with and he and Aziraphale were no longer bound to anything or anyone. They were free to do as they pleased, and as far as Crowley was concerned, that bloody apple tree should mean nothing more to him than all of these other trees that he trudged between.

Crowley gaped as the clearing came into view. Wildflowers densely populated the small field right up to the edges of a stream which bisected the clearing, and upon closer inspection, he saw that there were even small, silvery fish flitting about in the pools of the stream, ducking under thick roots from the surrounding trees. He looked up and saw that a large portion of the canopy framed the clearing, allowing both for shade and a sense of safety, as if he was in a world of his own. The sky was such a bright, endless blue, and they might have reminded him too much of a certain someone that he looked down into the water once more. Peering at his reflection in the clear water, he saw himself, too pale and with red-rimmed eyes, before a stray cluster of dandelion seeds rippled the image out of his sight. Crowley decided to sit down to watch the fish, breathing in the sweetness of the late summer air.

Maybe things would be okay, at least in this moment for him. Maybe everything wouldn’t come crashing down so long as he was quiet and only moved with the breeze. Maybe?

\--

It was late when he finally returned to the bookshop, much later than he had intended. By the time he sauntered through the threshold, Aziraphale had already closed up the windows and flipped over the open sign. His angel was easily found, humming happily to himself while reading some dusty old tome and sipping a tumbler of brandy. In the soft, golden light, it was hard to remember that he was a warrior. Aziraphale just looked gentle, and he had hardly ever not been, at least to Crowley. Aziraphale was one of the few things that Crowley could depend upon, the angel was easy to predict in the best of ways. He almost never left him guessing, and that was one of Crowley’s favorite things about him. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind it if…

Perhaps not, the angel looked content to read, and Crowley was content to watch him be content. They were allowed to be safe and happy now, so perhaps?

Leaning up against the doorway, Crowley closed his eyes and took in a breath, and instantly regretted it as the scent of smoke stung his nostrils. Crowley’s eyes shot open as he involuntarily gasped, alerting Aziraphale to his presence.

“Oh, hello! I -- Crowley? What’s wrong?” Concern darkened Azirahale’s features as he put the book down and moved to stand.

“Oh, nothing! I just had to sneeze is all. Weird things, these corporations of ours. Does that ever happen to you? I’ve seen the humans do that loads of times, but I don’t think it’s ever happened to me. Why is that even a thing? Seems more like a design flaw to me than something useful, really. Why would dust even exist? What’s the point if it just gets all over things and up your nose?” Crowley pulled his weight off of the wall, going over to the small end table to pour himself something to drink.

Aziraphale watched him all the while, but said nothing as he picked his book back up.

“What did you get up to today, you wily old thing? You weren’t here to help me with the customers.”

Helping with the customers was more akin to scaring them off with ghost stories and outrageous prices than any actual assistance. Plopping himself down on the far end of the couch, Crowley took a few sips of brandy. “Oh, nothing much, terrorized a village, conquered the globe, stole God’s left shoe, the usual business.”

“Ah, Her left shoe this time? I thought She stopped wearing shoes after you stole Her right shoe and filled it with snakes?” Aziraphale said, lifting an eyebrow but unable to tear his eyes away from whatever it was he was reading.

“I don’t make the rules, but I do blame Gabriel--” Crowley shuddered at the name, remembering just how easy it was for that monster to destroy what was perhaps the best being God had ever made. If Crowley had the chance, he’d… why, he’d...

Do what exactly? It’s not like he could much, especially because every single time he thinks too hard about everything that happened, he feels all filled up with smoke and his chest hurts and he positively  _ burns _ for an ounce of air even though he doesn’t actually even need to breathe in the first place, that’s something that only humans do and why is the room starting to spin a little bit he hasn’t even had that much to drink and--

“Dear boy, you’re shaking.” When Crowley snapped back into reality, Aziraphale had suddenly moved closer to him, book and drink set aside. “Would you please tell me what is the matter?” Aziraphale was so close that their knees would touch should he move an inch closer. Crowley had to take a moment to process what exactly it was that Aziraphale had actually just said to him.

“Er- it’s nothing. Tell me, angel, what boring old book are you reading on this fine, fine eve?” Aziraphale glanced in the direction of the book before looking back at Crowley and holding his gaze for just a second. Then he sat back, seeming much like the avid bookworm that he had almost always been, and gasped dramatically.

“This  _ book  _ was a gift to me from Monsieur Dumas himself! My dear boy, this is a- a harrowing tale of one man’s need for revenge while being faced with everything he would have had if- Stop laughing, why are you laughing? This is serious!”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley sighed, wiping a mock tear from the corner of his eye, “You always get so  _ passionate _ about those stories of yours. I think it’s very charming.”

The words left his mouth before he had a chance to realize what he was going to say, but now they were out there and he couldn’t take them back even if he wanted to. Aziraphale’s face might have coloured, but Crowley was too far into his drink to be able to tell. Crowley drained the glass, cleared his throat and stood.

“Right, well, I think I should go to my flat to keep the plants in line.” There was an understood  _ I’ll be back in the morning _ that hung between them, this time heavier than every other time since he first began coming to the shop regularly. Aziraphale looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself before nodding.

After exchanging their goodbyes and making his way to the Bently, Crowley wondered to himself about just when it was that the bookshop began to seem more like home to him than his flat did? Just when did he, despite those odd moments where he wanted to be on the other side of the universe, begin to show up nearly every day without fail and stay until the birds began to sing simply being in Aziraphale’s presence?

Making his way through his apartment, he decided that perhaps some sleep would do him good. Crowley quite fancied a good nap, and hadn’t been successful with sleeping since everything happened. Hopefully, he would be lucky this time.

Crowley snapped his fingers, his clothes disintegrating into nothingness as if they had never existed in the first place, laid down, and did his best to fall asleep.

Unfortunately, he was successful.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! We made it!
> 
> I tried to give him similar reactions that I experience with my anxiety and stuff to make it seem more real? In talking to other people with anxiety disorders, they all have said similar things (chest pain, nausea, insomnia, trouble breathing, twitchiness, emotional/mental exhaustion following bouts of panic, etc). But, it doesn't have to be perfect. :)
> 
> Also! In terms of updating, I have no clue how often I will be updating. I want to do a chapter a week, but between going through it and also having online classes I can't make any promises :( Also, I have no solid plot for this work, but I have a vague collections of feelings and scenes in my head, so you readers aren't the only ones along for the ride :D
> 
> I hope that you're doing as well as you can be and that you're safe and happy!
> 
> You're loved and a good person!


End file.
